In the issue of the Leader of March 23, 1942, were published
extracts from the speech of Pandit Amaranatha Jha delivered at a
meeting
of the Suhrid Sangh at Muzaffarpur, containing his views on the
question
of the national language for India. The problem is of great importance,
and I hope you will give some space in your columns to views which are
different from those advocated at Muzaffarpur, so that all sides of the
case may come before the public. I shall consider the arguments
advanced
in the speech seriatim.

Prof. Jha says that "Hindi alone can be the national language of
India
and occupy this place of honor, as it is derived from Sanskrit, draws
its
inspiration from the country, enshrines the culture of the country, and
is allied to all the major languages of the country." The first point
which
he makes in this statement is that Hindi is derived from
Sanskrit.
The statement is doubly wrong, wrong in what it asserts, and in what it
impliedly denies. Hindi, the modern high Hindi used by most writers of
Hindi prose and many writers of verse at present, which, according to
Prof.
Jha, ought to be the national language of India, is not derived from
Sanskrit.
In fact no modern Indian language is derived from Sanskrit, for
Sanskrit
is a stereotyped literary language which has not been allowed by
grammarians
to grow and multiply and bring forth children.

Hindi, as any text-book on Indo-Aryan philology will tell you, has
developed
from an Apabhramsha of Saurseni Prakrit, a dialect spoken in the
Madhyadesha
for many centuries. The Saurseni Prakrit itself is a daughter of one of
the old Indo-Aryan dialects spoken in Northern India in pre-Buddhist
times.
The old Indo-Aryan Prakrit was comprised of a number of dialects, one
of
which began to be used for literary purposes. The earliest literary
form
is known as Chhandas and is the medium of expression of the Vedas. In
later
times another literary language developed, to which the name Sanskrit
is
given. Its rules were compiled by Panini and other grammarians, and it
acquired a rigidity which has prevented its proliferation.

To assert then that Hindi is derived from Sanskrit is inaccurate.
The
implication that Urdu is not derived from the same Indo-Aryan sources
as
Hindi is also wrong. For the fact is that the source of Urdu is the
same
Apabhramsha, the same Saurseni Prakrit, the same old Indo-Aryan dialect
as gave rise to modern high Hindi.

So far as the origins are concerned, the two languages (?) stand on
the same footing, and one cannot assume a higher place than the other.
But it is then said that Hindi derives its inspiration from this
country,
and enshrines its culture, and the implication is that Urdu does not.
This
statement is one-sided and exaggerated. Urdu, it must be realized, is
not
the language of any people outside this country. Indians settled abroad
use it, and have taught its use to some of the inhabitants of their
adopted
countries; but apart from such speakers, Urdu is as indigenous to India
as Bengali, Gujarati, Marathi, or Tamil.

Urdu was born in India; it has been nurtured by Indians,
both Hindus and Muslims; its basic structure and phonetic and
morphological
system are Indian; its superstructure is more catholic than that of
Hindi,
for its vocabulary contains words derived from the cultural environment
of both Hindus and Muslims. The basis of Urdu is broader and less
exclusive
than that of Hindi, for it derives its inspiration from the culture of
both communities, and enshrines the traditions of both.

When people speak about Urdu they forget there is scarcely any phase
or aspect of Hindu life and thought which does not find expression
through
Urdu. We have translations of the Upanishads, the Bhagwad
Gita,
the Smritis, the Ramayana, the Mahabharata,
many Puranas,
and the Bhagwat in Urdu; there are many philosophic-religious
and
religious treatises in Urdu dealing with Hindu mythology, worship,
pilgrimages,
etc. Then on Hindu arts, especially music, we have numerous works in
Urdu.
A number of Sanskrit dramas, stories, and poems have been embodied in
Urdu
works. Hindu sciences, mathematical and natural, are to be found in
Urdu
books.

There is nothing surprising in this, for till nearly the close of
the
19th century, Urdu was recognized by most Hindus as their own language.
Hindu poets and prose writers used Urdu as the vehicle of their
thought,
and many among the educated Hindus in North India read Urdu books both
for information and for aesthetic satisfaction. In recent times Hindus,
under the influence of revivalist and communalist tendencies, are
gradually
giving up Urdu, the demand for books of this type is diminishing and
publishers
do not find it profitable to bring them out. Even then, if a reference
is made to the Government Gazettes published by the provincial
governments,
one will still find such books listed.

Urdu catered for the needs of the Hindus, and at the same time of
course
supplied to a much larger extent the needs of the Muslims. o far
as creative literature is concerned, Urdu boasts of both Hindu and
Muslim
contributors. Numerous Hindu writers, from Wali Ram Wali of Shahjahan's
time to the present day, have used Urdu as the medium of their
sentiments
and ideas. The narrow-mindedness of Muslim historians of Urdu
literature
has prevented the just appraisal of this contribution, but the fact
cannot
be gainsaid. If more Hindus have not taken to Urdu, the fault is partly
that of the Muslims themselves. An attitude of superiority, in spite of
the fact that many Muslim poets learnt to lisp their numbers at the
feet
of Hindu masters of poetry, hurt the self-respect of many an aspirant
to
literary fame.

Then the poison of revivalism and communalism, which entered the
vitals
of the two communities, has sharpened the differences between them.
Although
the Muslims monopolized political power during the middle ages, yet
they
did not consider it beneath their dignity to cultivate Braj Bhasha,
Avadhi,
and other Indian languages. In fact they produced writers whose names
will
live as long as these languages are studied. But they have shown less
and
less inclination to study the culture of their Hindu fellow-countrymen
during recent times.

However that may be, the charge that Urdu literature breathes an
alien
atmosphere is very much exaggerated. It is true that much of Urdu
literature
is steeped in the traditions of [the] Muslim community: but the Muslim
community is an Indian community, and it is but natural that its
longings,
ideals, and traditions should to some extent find expression in the
literature
produced by its members. It would be most unnatural if that were not
so.
The communities in India which profess faiths of non-Indian origin—the
Parsis, the Christians, and the Muslims—cannot be considered alien to
India
simply because they follow religions which are not indigenous. Those
who
think otherwise are the strongest supporters of schemes of India's
partition.

Again, those who know Urdu literature in its totality and not merely
in some of its aspects, know how cruelly wrong the charge of alienness
is. Read the works of the Dakhini Urdu poets, especially their masnavis,
marsias,
and allegorical poems; or those of Sauda and Mir, their
masnavis,
qasidas,
and marsias; or Mir Hasan's Masnavi Sihrul Bayan or
Daya
Shankar Nasim's Gulzar-i-Nasim; or themarsias of Anis;
or
the poems of Nazir Akbarabadi; or the longer poems of modern writers
like
Azad, Hali, Sarur Jahanabadi, Akbar Allahabadi, Chakbast, and many
living
poets; you will find that the atmosphere of Urdu poetry cannot be
regarded
as alien. Even when, as in marsias, the names of heroes and the
scenes of their heroism are non-Indian, the background of sentiment,
emotion,
and culture is Indian.

Again, study Urdu prose like the early ethical novels of M. Nazir
Ahmad,
or Sarshar's masterpiece Fisana-i-Azad, or the short stories of
Premchand, and you will not be able to maintain that Urdu literature is
untrue to Indian life or ignores India's variegated cultural
environment.
If Shakespeare's Hamlet, Julius Caesar, Anthony and
Cleopatra,
Merchant
of Venice, Romeo and Juliet, Othello, Troilus
and
Cressida, and Timon of Athens; Milton's Paradise Lost
and Samson Agonistes; Byron's Prisoner of Chillon;
Scott's
Quentin
Durward and Talisman; Lytton's Rienzi; George
Eliot's
Romola;
and numerous works of translation from Arabic, Persian, Sanskrit,
Greek,
Latin, Portuguese, German, Russian, Chinese, etc., are not regarded as
alien to English literature, why should translations from Arabic and
Persian
into Urdu lay the latter open to the charge of breathing an alien
atmosphere?
There are innumerable references and allusions in English literature to
Greek, Roman, and Jewish traditions and historical incidents, and
historical
and mythological personages, yet we have never heard an outcry against
them from the most fervent Anglophiles. Why, in the name of good sense,
condemn Urdu because a section of the Indian people whose religious
affinities
are not confined to the frontiers of India, make allusions to
extra-Indian
traditions?

It is then said that Hindi "is allied to all the major languages of
India." I do not wish to overdo the point; but the statement is
obviously
inaccurate. What about the Dravidian languages? Is not Urdu as much
allied
as Hindi to Punjabi?

Having considered Prof. Jha's reasons for giving preference to Hindi
over Urdu, let me pass on to his remarks about Hindustani. He seems to
feel a peculiar delight in showering contempt upon Hindustani. He once
dubbed it as a hybrid monster; he calls it now a "funny" language. I
wonder
what is at the back of his mind. Surely there is no language in the
world
which is not hybrid. English, which has borrowed unashamedly from
almost
every language in the world, ought to be given the first place among
hybrid
monsters. Is Sanskrit a pure language? If so, what about the numerous
Dravidian
and Munda words which have entered it? Does not Weber in his history of
Sanskrit literature point out a considerable number of Arabic
astronomical
terms which the Indian astronomical works in Sanskrit contain?

Is Urdu with Indo-Aryan verbs and many Persian nouns not a hybrid?
What
about Hindi? Did not Tulasidas, Bihari Lal, Keshav, and others employ
Arabic
and Persian words, and does not modern high Hindi contain loan words
from
English, French, Portuguese, Arabic, Persian, besides Dravidian, Munda,
and Chinese? Take Dakhini Urdu, which was used as the medium of
literature
for nearly four hundred years; its writers and readers did not regard
the
use of Prakritisms and Persianisms in juxtaposition as funny. It is the
case of some persons liking onions and some garlic, but some liking a
mixture
of both. Have those who like onions a right to abuse those who prefer
garlic
or a mixture of onions and garlic?

Let Prof. Jha be not so sure about the sympathies of the country
towards
Sanskritized Hindi. People of provinces where Hindi and Urdu are not
spoken
as mother-tongues want a lingua franca for the whole of India.
They
believe
that some form of the language spoken in the north by both Hindus and
Muslims
should serve the purpose. But they are not so certain about the
specific
form which should be adopted. Dr. S. K. Chatterji, the eminent
linguist,
advocated at one time a Hindi or Hindustani shorn of all its
grammatical
complexities, e.g. the gender of verbs, etc.

Sri M. Satyanarayan, one of the most ardent and indefatigable
workers
for the propagation of Hindi in the South, writing in the Hindi
Prachar
Samachar, the organ of the Dakshina Bharat Hindi Prachar Sabha,
warns
those who are anxious to fill Hindi with Sanskrit words. Says he: "If
we
have to accept a language which is filled with Sanskrit, or is
dominated
by Sanskrit, then we need not fix our gaze upon the languages of the
North,
for the languages (of Bengal, Maharashtra, and the South) are not so
poor
that they will go bankrupt in this matter of give and take. In this
argument
(for Sanskritization) there is not that much of advantage as appears on
the face of it—on the contrary, there is certain likelihood of loss."

Dr. Dhirendra Varma some time ago, commenting upon the demands of
non-Hindi
speaking provinces for the modification of the Hindi language, said:
"The
truth is that the honor and temptation of becoming the national
language
of India has thrown the speakers of Hindi into a delusion at present,
and
they are either ignoring the real problems of their language, or have
lost
the power of considering them from the right point of view."
(Vina.)

Prof. Jha, in order to please the very few who will learn Hindi
because
it will be the language of inter-provincial intercourse in place of
English,
advocates its Sanskritization; but he does not realize that in this
process
he is antagonizing the millions of Muslim neighbors of Hindus who live
in the region extending from the Indus to the Kosi, from the Himalaya
to
the Satpura. Is the game worth the candle?

Let me now examine the other points which have been made against
Urdu.
Says Prof. Jha: "The entire atmosphere of Urdu literature is
non-Indian;
hardly a single Indian metre is in use in Urdu." I need not repeat what
I have said about the Indianness of Urdu. But what about metre? In the
first place no specific metre is identified with any language, for in
the
development of literature metre frequently varies. The phenomenon is so
well known that I need not elaborate on it. But let me draw attention
to
two literatures,English and Bengali.

In English, as every student of its literature knows, experimenting
with new forms of verse has been the hobby of the poets of every new
period.
The most recent phase of this tendency is the use of what is known as
'sprung
verse' which was brought into vogue by Gerard Hopkins during the last
world
war, and which is replacing the syllabic verse of Hardy and Bridges. In
Bengali, besides the old Matra-vritta and Akshara-vritta
metres, there is a third form known as the Svara-vritta. The
first
two are common to many northern Indian languages, but the last, whose
basis
appears to be stress, is peculiar to Bengali. Some philologists think
that
its origin is non-Aryan.

Apart however from these considerations, let me point out that Urdu
and Hindi are alike in the use of rhymed verse, and both are unlike
Sanskrit,
which is entirely unrhymed. Again, Urdu has a considerable amount of
songs
whose rhythms make them indistinguishable from similar songs in Hindi.
Although the problem of versification in Urdu and Hindi has not been
studied
scientifically, I make bold to say that Urdu prosody is not entirely
different
from Hindi. Anyone can satisfy himself on this score by comparing the
Hindi
Chaupai
with the Urdu Bahr-i-Mutaqarib.

Then in support of his contention that the atmosphere of Urdu is
entirely
non-Indian, Prof. Jha draws attention to the list of words in the
well-known
dictionary Farhang-i-Asafia. I am constrained to say that the
manner
in which the statement is made is very misleading. Prof. Jha does
not state that the dictionary lists more than 54,000 words and that of
them 13,500 are Persian and Arabic; i.e. the proportion of the foreign
words to the total is just one-fourth. How can anyone venture to say on
the basis of this proportion that Urdu is non-Indian?

In the end let me say that no attempt to prove that Hindi and Urdu
are
two different languages has the least chance of success. In spite of
Messrs.
Purushottamdas Tandon, Sampurnanand, and the prominent men of letters
of
the Hindi Sahitya Sammelan foregathered at Abohar, the fact is
indisputable
that Urdu and Hindi are only two literary styles or forms of one spoken
language. Nor will the attempt to prove that Braj Bhasha, Avadhi, and
Modern
Hindi are identical find any support from the science of language,
whatever
popular writers may assert. Identities of languages cannot be based
upon
the ground of glossic similarities.

If the extremists among the writers of Urdu and Hindi, who affect
styles
burdened with classical borrowings, are in the majority today, that
does
not mean that they will continue forever to be in the ascendant. When
writers
of Urdu, under the influence of misplaced notions of phonetic and
linguistic
purism, rejected numerous good, simple, effective words of common
speech,
and laid down rules for pruning the vocabulary of Urdu, in spite of the
centuries of practice to the contrary, they committed a grievous
mistake.

Today writers of Hindi—some under an utterly mistaken notion of what
Indianness consists in, and some moved by frankly communal
sentiment—are
inflicting a worse injury upon Hindi by (1) driving out simple, easy,
and
widely understood words of foreign origin; (2) substituting Sanskrit tatsamas
for common tadbhavas; (3) employing Sanskritic rules of forming
derivatives which are contrary to the genius of Prakritic growth and a
burden upon the sound system of Hindi; (4) borrowing all kinds of
suitable
and unsuitable words exclusively from the treasury of Sanskrit.

The whole truth about Hindi and Urdu is not that Urdu alone had
replaced
good words in use in Hindi by words of foreign origin, but that modern
high Hindi has been built up from Urdu by substituting for words of
Persian
derivation Sanskritic words. The fact is that compared with high
Hindi, Urdu has a hoary past, and the real grievance of speakers of
Urdu
is that the advocates of Hindi are endeavoring to oust an old Indian
language
by a new-fangled one.

It is a gross misrepresentation of facts to say that in moving along
these lines Hindi and Urdu are following the lines of natural growth,
for
we know that these tendencies are being deliberately fostered. In fact
the widening of the gulf between Urdu and Hindi is merely an expression
in the literary field of the communalism which is so rampant in our
social
and political life. Notwithstanding protestations to the contrary,
propaganda
on behalf of a Sanskritized Hindi is not a healthy national movement,
for
it supports exclusionism.

India is a composite country; it has many races, many religions,
many
cultures, many languages. Indian nationality cannot be the sort of
unitary
homogeneous society and civilization which obtains in England, France,
Italy, or Germany. A common Indian lingua franca must reflect
the
composite character of the Indian nation, and therefore all endeavors
to
make that language the national language of India which rests upon the
exclusive basis of one cultural tradition is fraught with strife, and
destined
to fail.

An appreciation of difficulties of this kind led the Indian National
Congress to adopt Hindustani as the national language of India. Pandit
Jawaharlal Nehru, perceiving clearly the implications of the situation,
asserted: "I have no doubt in my mind that Hindi and Urdu must come
nearer
to each other, and though they may wear different garbs, will be
essentially
one language." A desire to put an end to the estrangement between the
two
communities actuated Mahatma Gandhi recently to say: "I would like to
form
an association advocating the learning of both forms of speech and both
the scripts by its members ,and carrying on propaganda to that end, in
the hope finally of a natural fusion of the two becoming a common
inter-provincial
speech called Hindustani. Then the question would be not
Hindustani=Hindi+Urdu,
but Hindustani=Hindi=Urdu."

I hope all thoughtful persons will give their earnest attention to
the
problem, and on my part I fervently wish that the proposal of Mahatma
Gandhi
may soon be accomplished.